There are two types of people in this world: those who make bites and those who do not.
The group that makes bites is diligent and careful. They seek consistency and expect greatness from each bite. They build each bite. They see each plate of food as a whole — as a dish. They would be unhappy to be left with a plate of leftover rice because they would be dissatisfied with the flavour of a single component without it’s compatriots. They would be unhappy to be left with a place of leftover rice because this would indicate that they have failed.
The group that does not build bites is reckless and free. Irrespective of their interest in the culinary arts, they fail to restrain themselves from going all in — eating whatever they see without intention. They do not plan and have no rules — a plate of leftover rice is neither a failure, nor a nuisance. It is rice.
The Stanford Marshmallow experiment showed that children who were able to withstand their desire to eat a marshmallow for long enough were more successful in almost every aspect of their lives. Those who could not had dismal futures.
I propose that we would find the same drastic differences between groups when studying those who make bites and those who do not.
I do not make bites.
I fantasise about making bites the way I see my careful friends do. I envy their dedication and wish the same rules that reigned in their minds had any place in mine. But, they don’t.
I scarf down food like it is a sport. I am happy to eat even the most unappetising leftovers (e.g., raw onions, wilted iceberg lettuce, days-old bread) by themselves if I’ve run out of the rest of the dish. I am undiscerning.
I am undiscerning, but I am also free.
My life has no rules; my plate has no rules. There is nothing holding me back from creating a unique bite each and every time. I don’t mind the failures; I barely notice the successes.
Food is a meditation; I truly do not think.